going to graveyards
by shadows and sunshine
Summary: That's what they do, to stare at the names etched on stone.// One-shot in honor of Veteran's Day.


Well, here's a one-shot in honor of Veteran's Day, because I think we all know someone who's been affected by war in some way, and even though I'm anti-war, veterans still deserve respect and an appropriate amount of sobriety. Also for the 'H' challenge on the HPFC forum. My word was _haggard, _and even though it only makes an appearance once, it's what sparked the whole idea. This is based on the five stages of grief, as well as on, well, Veteran's Day itself.

xxx

going to graveyards

_(denial)_

_Frederick Fabian Weasley_

_1978 - 1998_

George realizes he's not a twin anymore when he visits Fred's grave. He died when he was twenty, and in a year George will be twenty-one, an age Fred never will be. He thinks, maybe, he's destined to die alone; he never had those fears before because he always had Fred with him and he knew they would stay side by side no matter what, but now the thought scares him.

He wishes there were some way to travel back in time, to undo and erase the mistakes, to beg Fred not to leave and even if he was mad at him and didn't fight, it would be better than this.

(he regrets and he hates himself for it, because he knows Fred wants him to be happy, so he lays a Nosebleed Nougat on his grave, pretending he can hear him laughing)

_(anger)_

_Daphne Fidelia Greengrass_

_1980 - 1998_

It's over and Astoria doesn't care anymore—she's past the point where anything matters and all she wants to do is break and destroy, and she wants everyone else to be miserable.

She doesn't want to be careful or cautious or controlled anymore; she feels like an angry hornet let out of a jar, a bull in a china shop. There's nothing stopping her from wrecking everything around her, and that's what she does—pulling pictures off the wall, smashing her lamp against the ground.

"I hate you," she whispers. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You selfish _bitch._"

Daphne's selfish because she had to be stupid and went and _died, _but Astoria's selfish too, for not letting her go.

(she hates her sister, it's true, but she hates herself more)

_(bargaining)_

_Nymphadora Titania Tonks Lupin_

_1973 – 1998_

_Remus John Lupin _

_1960 – 1998_

_Ted Lewis Tonks_

_1953 – 1998_

Andromeda doesn't like going to graveyards—because visiting the resting places of the dead would mean accepting their deaths as a true fact, and she'll never do that. But maybe, she thinks, it's the best place to strike a deal.

"I'll do anything," she murmurs, feeling silly for speaking aloud to slabs of granite, but continuing anyway, "I'll do anything. Please. Come back." And then she waits, as if she expects the corpses to rise out of their graves and become reanimated on the spot.

She wants them—she _needs _them—because she can't do this alone, can't take care of herself and the son that they left behind. She's tired and haggard and worn out and she needs help.

"Please," she begs once more.

(there's no response from the graves before her, but a few feet away in his carriage, Teddy begins to bawl)

_(depression)_

_Cedric Amos Diggory_

_1977 – 1995_

It's wrong for her to feel this way after so long, but she's lost Cedric and now Michael's gone and Harry's married Ginny, and she has no one left. Cho wishes she could have been there, so he wouldn't have died alone, maybe she could have gone with him to wherever he is now.

She knows she's being horribly selfish—that she could have died, too, in the war, and that there are so many grieving families that would gladly exchange her life for the life of their loved one, but she can't help it.

Cho doesn't talk to anyone because it hurts her throat, and she can't remember the last time she smiled. She could have lost more, but she didn't, and somehow that makes it worse.

(she goes to graveyards and stares at the granite stones, and the only feeling left in her is envy)

_(acceptance)_

The Boy Who Lived has lived long enough to see more deaths than he can count, seen too many friends fall than he wants to try and remember. He reads the graves of all the people he knew, but he doesn't let himself recall their names in his head.

He goes to graveyards to remember, and that's all. He goes to remember and not to grieve or to bargain or to cry. Because he's _Harry Potter, _and he saved the Wizarding World (thought not singlehandedly), and that's really what matters in the end.

It helps him to think of everyone else that _did _survive—the Weasleys and Neville and Hagrid and Cho and even Draco Malfoy, even the muggles that had no godly idea what was going on, _they're safe. _

(It's not that he doesn't grieve inside sometimes, but then he thinks of the rest of the days that the world will get to enjoy, all the dawns they'll get to see, it's worth it)

xxx

Just a quick little one-shot in honor of Veteran's Day. I'm going to use this opportunity to rant about my political agenda, how glorified this ILLEGITIMATE war is, how many people died when what we really should be doing is trying to eliminate suffering and desperation so terrorists stop strapping bombs to themselves to get into heaven, amirite?

Anyway. Don't discount the fic if you're pro-war; I'd still like to hear your thoughts.


End file.
